


maybe you can devastate me

by princessmiakitten



Category: Free!
Genre: :), Angst, M/M, happy birthday makoto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-29 21:14:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5142656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessmiakitten/pseuds/princessmiakitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Makoto, I can’t do this. -Seijuurou</i>
</p>
<p>That’s all it reads. Six words written neatly in a line that have the power to make Makoto feel like his world is breaking apart, that everything that he’s finally built up is crumbling down</p>
            </blockquote>





	maybe you can devastate me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aozu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aozu/gifts).



> im sorry about this
> 
> also you should listen to [this song](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FR9G7ioLLmc) while reading

It was just for one night.

Makoto promised himself this, that it was just for one night, that he would only try this party thing once just to get the full college experience and that would be that.

He could focus on his studies for the rest of his time in college.

Just for one night, he should let go, drink as much as he could handle (which honestly wasn’t much despite his bulky body), and just be free.

He’s never been really free.

It was just one night, and he could blame the alcohol all he wants (but he really doesn’t want to), but from that one night came an obsession with red.

Red hair, specifically.

Red hair, golden eyes.

It started with excitement-- Makoto hadn’t known that Seijuurou went to his university, on a swimming scholarship, no less. It started with the excitement that he finally found someone he knew and that he wasn’t alone in this big place and even though they never really had major conversations, this would be the start.

The excitement morphed into affection. Little signs, where Makoto would find himself curling up against Seijuurou’s side on the couch as the music blasted through the apartment. Bodies packed so tight in a confined space that Makoto really had no choice but to end up on Seijuurou’s lap.

The fact that his hand curled into his shirt, held onto him tightly-- well, for that, he had no explanation.

Affection gradually made its way to lust as the night progressed, and Makoto found Seijuurou’s mouth against his, the other’s tongue in his mouth and the taste of redbull and vodka and rum mixed against Makoto’s taste buds. Seijuurou’s hands were warm against Makoto’s skin, under his shirt.

Warm.

Too warm.

Hot.

Makoto didn’t want him to leave. Didn’t want Seijuurou to stop touching him.

It was just one night, he promised himself.

Seijuurou was supposed to be just one night.

But he finds himself going back to Seijuurou’s arms every night. He finds himself spending the nights with the red head, staring into his golden eyes as Seijuurou climbs inside his body.

It was supposed to be one night, but Makoto can’t help it.

He’s addicted to the way Seijuurou feels against him, addicted to the way Seijuurou tastes without the hint of alcohol.

There’s a storm inside Makoto’s head, inside his heart, and he knows he shouldn’t be keeping this up, but he can’t help it.

He needs it.

He’s hooked.

Makoto’s open to a whole new world with Seijuurou, is exposed to a side of him he never thought he’d ever see. Makoto’s open.

He’s free.

Seijuurou helps him find his freedom, helps him liberate himself from his worries, from the things that hold him down.

Helps him find himself.

Seijuurou completely consumes Makoto’s life within a matter of months, within less than a year. He came into Makoto’s life like a hurricane, with messy kisses and destruction in the form of fingerprints and bite marks blooming on Makoto’s tan skin. Makoto now sees golden eyes when he closes his green ones, feels the ghosting of lips against his skin when there’s no one there, can feel warmth of palms against his lower back when he’s alone.

Seijuurou unravels Makoto, undoes him.

Unpacks all of the baggage, all of the worries.

It makes Makoto feel safe, finally. Safe and secure and that just because Seijuurou was a hurricane didn’t mean he was harmful. It was like being in the eye of the storm, the calmness of it.

Seijuurou was like the rain that felt cool against Makoto’s skin, that made him feel at peace, that covered him completely and made him feel one with it.

It’s almost too good to be true.

“I love you.” He whispers one morning, when he manages to open his eyes, voice thick with sleepiness. They burn from the brightness of the room, and it just makes Makoto want to bury himself back under the covers.

It takes a minute for him to register that the usual heavy arm around his waist isn’t there, that there isn’t an extra warmth that gets him out from under the covers because it’s too hot.

It takes a minute for him to register that Seijuurou never leaves the blinds open.

Makoto sits up in his bed and looks around for his phone to check the time-- eight in the morning. Seijuurou usually gets up at nine for a swim before his classes.

Deep breath.

Makoto tries to reason with himself, that maybe, just maybe, Seijuurou went to swim earlier today than usual. That’s possible, that’s completely possible.

He looks at Seijuurou’s side, then looks a little longer to notice that there’s a piece of paper on the pillow, crumpled up but still flat on the surface.

Makoto’s stomach drops. He can’t breathe. His blood runs cold.

But he picks it up because he needs to, because maybe it isn’t what he thinks it is, that maybe it was just a regular note.

_Makoto_ , it starts.

His throat is dry.

_Makoto, I can’t do this. -Seijuurou_

That’s all it reads. Six words written neatly in a line that have the power to make Makoto feel like his world is breaking apart, that everything that he’s finally built up is crumbling down and.

He’s devastated.

One night.

Seijuurou should’ve stayed as just one night. Makoto shouldn’t have gone back to him, shouldn’t have had too much of a good thing.

And it’s his fault, after all.

It’s his fault for not realizing the signs, realizing that it was him getting attached to Seijuurou, it was him coming back for more.

Not the other way around.

And maybe, if he hadn’t let it get to this point, if he had stayed just one night, he wouldn’t be broken apart by these six words. If he had kept Seijuurou far away from him, there wouldn’t have been a storm.

But he was a hurricane.

Mikoshiba Seijuurou entered his life like a hurricane and left Makoto in pieces in his wake.


End file.
